Of Bloodshed and Butterflies
by ToxikSoul
Summary: Sheilas life was normal. Normal, and boring. But it all changes when she gets kidnapped by a mysterious stranger known to her only as "The Monarch". Now she's not quite so boring, but in a lot of danger. And she thinks she likes it.
1. Normal

~AN: Ok, Ok, so there is a little bit of explaining to do regarding this one, as I have never really done anything like this before, and it kinda came out of the blue.

So, when my grandmother was recently hospitalized, I found myself having more and more trouble sleeping.

Often I would end up watching [AS], One of my favorite shows being, YOU GUESSED IT, The Venture Bros., my particular interest being the relationship between Dr. Girlfriend and The Monarch.

I wrote this fic after a bit of Wikipedia research on all the characters and, to celebrate **finally** getting OpenOffice to work on my crappy comp!

-happy dances-

I know it starts out slow, but just bear with it, IT GETS BETTER!

Hope you like!~

Oh and, P.S, YES, I MADE UP THE LAST NAME.

Because I thought she should have one and I couldn't find it anywhere, so I made one up.

DEAL.~

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It all started the day their house got robbed.

A normal house, in a normal suburban neighborhood.

The day itself had been relatively normal.

Sheila Underwood had woken up, only slightly glancing over to the side to see her lazy bum of a husband still asleep in bed.

She had, as she had done for the five years they had been married, wondered why he never got off his ass and got a job to support her, and why she had to do everything.

Then she had, like the last five years, simply interrupted the thoughts, gotten dressed and gone to work.

Just an average normal day.

Until the phone call came.

The office was eerily quiet as it rang, and for a moment she pondered letting the answering machine get it, like she often did when she was knee-deep in important paperwork.

But for some reason, the ringer just seemed to call to her as she, without her own consent, got up and examined the caller ID.

"Oh god" she thought when she saw the number. _555-5863._ That was Police chief Ventures' number, one she had learned well since she got married. All because of her husband, she thought, who frequently got DUI's and had to be bailed out of jail. _What could he have possibly done now?_ She thought morosely as she slowly picked up the phone. When she answered, the man on the other line was already sighing with impatience. "Sheila speaking. What did he do this time?" she said, with a tone in her voice that said she really wasn't in the mood.

"Ms. Underwood, I'm afraid that your husband is dead." he said with just a touch of guilt, probably for how happy he was that he had finally pissed off the wrong person. "You might wanna get down here and see this." he finished, and before she could say anymore, the line clicked off.

_Dead. Dead. My husband is dead. _The thought, the word itself, swirled around in her mind like a hurricane. Was it murder? Or had he finally drank too much for his body to handle? Either way, as she headed out of work to her car, she wondered why on earth it didn't happen sooner. She almost felt bad for how guilty she didn't feel for thinking that, then reminded herself of who she was thinking about. Then, without a word, she got in her car and drove toward her house.

Besides the plethora of officers outside it, her house almost looked normal. If it weren't for the officers clustered around the door, pushing and shoving to get in, it would've looked just like any other house on the block. As she parked her car in the driveway and got out, two officers rushed over to her. The one she recognized as Police chief Venture, a tall man with more hair on his chin than he probably ever had on his head. The other one, a big muscular blond fellow, stared down at her with hard eyes she found difficult to read. He extended his hand to her, and she took it in a firm shake.

"Lieutenant Sampson, pleased to meet ya." he said gruffly, in a dialect that was probably intended to make somebody feel as if they had known the man for years, whether they had or not.

"What happened here?" she inquired, and saw Sampson jump back. She was used to peoples first reaction to her three-pack-a-day voice, and didn't even feel the need to get offended anymore. "I know you wouldn't have called me here for no reason.".

"Well......" the police chief paused as he fiddled with his goatee, then gave an inquisitive look to Sampson before he continued with "We think you oughtta see this for yourself". So the trio started off, and after pushing through the large crowd to get through the front door, she was shocked by what she saw. Butterflies that she assumed had been drawn in the blood of her husband. And they were _everywhere._ On the walls. On the floor. On the ceiling. On the stairs. On the furniture. She'd had no idea a human being had this much blood. And the upstairs was no better. On the bed, a simple note was left. She read it slowly, trying to absorb every word of it:

_Dearest Sheila,_

_Oh, how I have watched from afar. Watching, waiting, for the perfect time. The perfect time to show you the light. For you are a caterpillar, yet to become a butterfly. And I shall be the king who builds you a cocoon of love that you may hibernate in until you become beautiful once more. And we will be happy eternally. So, until then, my queen, I leave you with but the blood of these insignificant moths to keep you warm._

_Wait for me-_

_Monarch_

She turned around to face the two men, apparently shocked, because at that very moment the police chief, who up till now had been silent except for the few words said outside, Spoke up.

"I....I think he may have used more than one persons blood to do all this. We'll have to wait for the DNA to come back on all the samples first.".

"Of course, we'll have people watching your house around the clock and-" Sampson started to say before she cut him off.

"No. I'm fine here alone." She saw no point in wasting police resources on a madman who may or may not come back. She realized then that it wasn't a question, or a statement, but a command. And with that realization she turned on her heel and walked down her once normal stairs, out of her once normal house, sat down in the once normal lawn and stared, for she knew it would never be normal again.

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OK, so that's it for this chapter. I know, some of it was pretty lame, the next chapter will be better I PROMISE! It might even have a psychotic rant or two. So until then, STAY TOXIK, FOLKS!


	2. Authors Note

Ok, I took down the second chapter to this because I felt that it was really stupid and that the story got completely distracted from how I actually wanted it to be.

So I will *eventually retype the second chapter, and then put it back up.

To all of you that actually liked it, I'm sorry.

I just originally wanted this to go in a different direction, and I didn't really realize that until after I had posted it.

So once again, sorry for the misunderstanding.~

Megan


End file.
